


Midsummer Night

by laetificat



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laetificat/pseuds/laetificat
Summary: A moment of reflection on the nature of wealth between Hosea and Dutch at the mayor's party.Some small spoilers for the mission "The Gilded Cage" in Chapter 4.





	Midsummer Night

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've been posting a lot lately (I can't stop orz), but I played this mission last night and I couldn't get this scene out of my head
> 
> btw my current Hosea/Dutch song is [Idaho by Gregory Alan Isakov](https://gregoryalanisakov.com/songs/idaho), which I found on a Spotify playlist called 'Western Acoustics' by pmcgann28. highly recommend if, like me, you want some sweet sad songs to have feelings about cowboys to.

Hosea felt almost at home amongst the monied crowds at the mayor's party. 

It was a strange feeling, seeing as he'd never had a home like this one, so conceivably had no reason to feel comfortable. Yet he did. It was something about the atmosphere, he decided, which called out to him as a connoisseur of deception and intrigue. So many people walking about in their finery, pretending very hard to be something they weren't. Pretending to be young, or interesting, or powerful, or desirable. Each wearing their own disguise. And here he was, a man who robbed and scammed people just like them for a living, walking among them like he belonged.

It was almost beautiful, in its way.

Hosea leaned against the balustrade, sipping his champagne. He was waiting for his target to return from the washroom, occupying himself in the meantime by eavesdropping on two elderly dowagers who were busily gossiping about the recent renovations at the city bank. 

A brief touch at his elbow; the scent of sandalwood and juniper and strong cigar smoke. He didn't even have to look to know that Dutch had arrived beside him.

“How goes the hunt?” He asked, coming around to stand next to Hosea. With a deft movement he plucked the champagne glass out of Hosea's hand and took a sip.

“Profitable,” Hosea replied, accepting the glass back again, “or so I hope.” 

He nodded in the direction of the groups clustered by the fountains. “Looks like Arthur's found his man.”

“Good boy,” Dutch murmured. Hosea could hear the fond smile in his voice. 

Hosea repositioned himself slightly against the balustrade, trying to find a stance that quelled the ache of his spine and hips. He would have to ask Miss Grimshaw for more of that warming salve. But how much longer could he depend on that alone? As it often did these days, the phantom of his aging body wrapped a bony hand around his soul and gave a gentle squeeze.

Hosea ignored it. Instead, he took a swallow of his drink and gazed out over the party.

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like, if we'd been born different men?” Hosea asked. Dutch glanced at him, frowning his confusion at the question. “Rich, I mean,” Hosea elaborated. “The same, but rich. Like these strutting turkeys.”

Dutch gave a low rumble of amusement. 

“Feelin’ philosophical, Hosea?” 

“It's just got me thinking. What separates us from these folks? Nothing, except maybe luck. Most of them are just as conniving and twice as damn mean as we are. Only difference is they don't sleep on the ground. You think we'd be like them, if we'd had different circumstances?”

Dutch grunted. “If we had different circumstances I'd probably still be lyin’ dead in the dirt somewhere a hundred times over. I’m not going to spend my time worrying about what could have been, Hosea. I've got too much to think about what's actually goin’ on in this goddamn country, between the O'Driscolls and this fellow Brontë and his ilk, not to mention the fucking Pinkertons breathing down our necks.” 

“Besides,” he added, moving closer to Hosea, close enough to cover Hosea's hand with his. Hosea started a little at the touch, glancing about to see if they were being watched. For the moment at least, they seemed beyond anyone's notice. Dutch smiled, the lights of the party glittering in his eyes. 

“I'm of the mind that it ain't just money as makes us rich,” he said, reaching up to briefly touch Hosea's face.

Hosea pulled in a breath, something rising tight in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Dutch, I -- ”

The boom and crack of fireworks overhead interrupted them, light suddenly bathing them both in green, red, gold. Dutch pulled his hands away and leaned forward on the balustrade, peering up at the sky as it became wreathed in glittering blossoms. 

“When he shall die,” he murmured, almost inaudible, “take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun. Now ain't that fine.”

After a moment he glanced back down at the party, seeking and finding. “Aha, I believe Arthur has pinned his quarry. Excuse me, Hosea.” 

And with that he was gone, down the steps and into the crowd. Hosea watched him go, the ache in his heart matching the one in his back. He took a long breath and sighed it out, reflecting not for the first time on the humor of a universe which had him love such a man.

At least, he thought as he finished his drink and turned his attention back to the task at hand, it did make life rather interesting.


End file.
